Dimensions
by Doinstuffman
Summary: While on the search for the missing starship Voyager, Captain Tyson Garrett and the crew of the starship Orion encounter unexpected visitors from a galaxy far, far away. Original characters created by the author (save for Lietuenant Mendon)
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: Over the past few months, I've been screwing around with this idea, and I'm far enough ahead where I think I can put this story out there and see what people think. This idea might be a little cheesy, and I'm not sure how well the reactions will be (you'll see what I mean in the chapters to come). But for now, here is the introductory chapter.]**

 **STAR TREK: DIMENSIONS**

 _USS Orion_ (NCC-2510-C), _Intrepid-_ class Long-Range Science Vessel

BRIDGE CREW

Captain Tyson Garrett, Human Male (Ship's Captain)

Commander Julie Palmer, Human Female (First Officer)

Lt. Commander Richard Paxton, Human Male (Chief Engineer)

Doctor Zalya Braun, Betazoid Female (Chief Medical Officer)

Lieutenant Miles Chase, Human Male (Helmsman)

Lieutenant Mendon, Benzite Male (Science Officer)

Lieutenant Varik, Vulcan Male (Security/Tactical Officer)

Ensign Tanya Romanov, Human Female (Operations Officer)

1

 _[Captain's Log, Stardate 48346.1  
It has been over a month since the disappearance of _Voyager, _and to date, all our efforts to find any clue as to their whereabouts have been unsuccessful.  
We are just about to disembark from Deep Space Nine, and are preparing to venture to Bolarus IX for one more sweep.  
Many of my crew have friends aboard _Voyager, _and morale is low. It is times like this that I wish I could consult my mother for guidance.]_

Captain Garrett felt around his chest for the medallion he wore underneath his tunic. He felt the cool metal against his breastbone and let out a small sigh.

The trinket was comprised of hull alloys from _Enterprise-C,_ the ship his mother Rachel had died commanding. It was all he had left of her. He had been a second-year Cadet at the Academy when _Enterprise_ was destroyed defending a Klingon outpost, Narendra III.

 _At least, that was the official story,_ he had always told himself. He was much older now, and his chestnut hair was beginning to show small streaks of gray around his temples. Nearing fifty years old, and with Starfleet brass constantly dangling an Admiral's position in front of him only to rip it away like a cruel master toying with their dog, he was beginning to wonder if he'd be damned to spend the rest of his career in a captain's chair.

 _One more mission. It's always one more mission._ He massaged his brow as he shifted in his chair.

"Captain, we're being hailed by Deep Space Nine. Captain Sisko would like to say a few words." Ensign Romanov prepared to forward the incoming transmission.

Garrett stood and straightened out his tunic, tugging briefly at the collar of the turtleneck beneath. "On screen."

Captain Benjamin Sisko appeared on the viewscreen, his facial expression clearly showed signs of exhaustion. It looked as though he had been going without sleep for some time.

"Captain Garrett, sorry I couldn't have met with you in person during your time here. I've been busy coordinating ships in this sector in the search efforts for _Voyager._ As you are probably aware… it hasn't been a very fruitful endeavor."

"Undoubtedly." Garrett responded. "In any event, we are about to disengage from spacedock and set course for the Bolian Sector. What would like to discuss?"

Sisko straightened in his seat. "I merely wanted to make it a point to wish you good luck, as I have every ship leaving the station for search and rescue missions. Captain Janeway is a dear friend of mine, and I'd like nothing more than to see her and her crew home safe."

"Acknowledged, Captain. Anything else?"

"Just… if you do find them, tell Kathryn 'hello' for me. Good luck, _Orion._ Sisko out." The viewscreen went black.

"Well then, I guess that's our cue to leave. Mr. Chase, take us out, one-third impulse."

"One-third impulse, aye sir." Lt. Miles Chase keyed in the commands, and the faint hum of the impulse engines filled the bridge. The ship's computer auto-corrected for drift as the _Orion_ cleared the docking bay and put distance between ship and station.

"Captain, we're clear of the station. Course is laid in for Bolarus IX."

Garrett keyed his communicator. "Engineering, how's it look down there? Give me some good news, Rick."

"Warp power is online and waiting, Captain. Dilithium reserves nominal. Finally got that power draw problem worked out."

"Wonderful. Mr. Chase, let's get going. Warp Six."

Miles keyed in the commands. "Course and speed set."

"Engage." Garrett chuckled to himself. He thought that he sounded more and more like Jean-Luc Picard every time he said that word.

"I'll be in my ready room. Inform me of any problems. Ms. Palmer, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Captain." Commander Palmer rose with the Captain, and proceeded to inspect the bridge stations. Garrett passed through the automatic doors into his private ready room, and walked over to the replicator near his desk.

"Coffee. Hot. Cream, two sugars. Wait… Computer, belay that last part. Cream, no sugar." The replicator hummed to life, and a steaming cup of coffee appeared in the slot. Dr. Braun had ordered him to adjust his diet to eliminate sugar and sweets, and he wasn't in the mood for a lecture, should she have walked in while he was ordering. He picked up the cup, and sat down on the couch running along the window.

The empty black sky to his back, he picked up the book sitting on the coffee table in front of him. It was an ancient copy of H.G. Wells' classic novel _The War of the Worlds,_ a gift from his mother after his acceptance into Starfleet academy. His mother had always encouraged his passion for classic Earth literature, but real books were hard to come by. And while he greatly enjoyed holo-novels, there was something special about ink and paper that kept him yearning to imagine the stories for himself.

"It will keep you out of trouble if your head is buried in a book," she always told him. He opened the book, inhaling the musty smell of the yellowed pages. It was a scent he hoped never to forget. Reaching through the collar of his uniform, he pulled the medallion out and turned it over in his hands. Removing the chain from around his neck, he set the coin on the table.

"Thanks, mom." He said, raising the book slightly. He sipped his coffee, and began reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N: First off, let me just apologize now if you're reading this and are not a sports fan. This kind of holodeck event is something I've personally always wanted to see on a** ** _Trek_** **series, but if I have to do it myself, I can deal. I'm also a complete Boston sports homer, and I will not make any apologies for that (Roger Goodell, if** ** _you're_** **reading this, tuck it & suck it!) But I digress, enjoy!]**

 _[Lieutenant Miles Chase's Personal Log, Stardate 48346.5.  
We are several hours into our mission, and at long last, the senior bridge staff, myself included, have been relieved by the night shift.  
With this much-needed free time, I've decided to invite Varik and Mendon to join myself, Mr. Paxton and Ensign Romanov in my new holodeck program, recreating one of the greatest Earth sporting events of all-time.]_

"Mr. Chase, please remind me why I agreed to attend this frivolous endeavor." Varik seemed very uncomfortable in such a large crowd.

"Because he invited you, Lieutenant. You said you wanted to learn more about Earth culture, this seems like a very acceptable way to do so. I myself am enjoying this immensely." Mendon was wearing a hat displaying one of the logos of the two teams on the field. "This is delightful. I have not had much exposure to human culture since my short time aboard the _Enterprise._ Mr. Chase, what did you say this event was called, again?"

"Super Bowl 53. One of the greatest games of American Football ever played. New England Patriots and the London Knights. This was significant because it was the first season the Knights were in the league, and it was Brady's final game before retiring. And we're just getting to the best part of the game!" Miles was wearing his combadge on a navy-blue jersey. He reached for the cup of synthesized beer in the holder near his feet.

"Varik, have you tried one yet?" Tanya asked between sips of her own beer.

"No. And I do not believe my intentions will change." Varik tried to hide his discomfort due to the noise of the crowd.

"Don't be like that, don't Vulcans drink at all?" Miles leaned forward to try and make eye contact with his crewmate.

"I did not say that, Mr. Chase. However, Vulcans normally will only indulge on the most special of occasions. In addition, Earth food and drink can be much too… rich. For Vulcan palettes, at any rate."

"Come on, just one." A hesitant nod from his Vulcan friend brought a smile to Miles' face.

"Computer: freeze program." The teams on the field froze mid-play, leaving the football hanging just past the London quarterback's fingertips. The crowd remained still, signs of jubilation on the faces of all the holo-characters. Miles shuffled past the frozen crowd and called for a replicator to appear on the holodeck wall, replacing part of the crowd.

"One beer. Earth, 21st century, Samuel Adams Boston Lager." The beer materialized in a plastic cup bearing the logo of the game and those of the two teams playing on the field. Miles picked up the cup and shimmied sideways back to his seat before resuming the program.

"My dad was from the area where they used to brew this stuff. The drink of my people, so to speak." Tanya and Rick both laughed as Miles handed the beer across them to Varik. He took a moment to inhale the beer's aroma, his face noticeably unsettled, even for a Vulcan. He raised the rim of the cup to his lips and drank. As he moved the cup away, foam from the top of the frothing beverage remained on his upper lip, prompting more laughter from Tanya. Varik's face wrinkled at the taste.

"It is…" he began, clearly trying to find a polite way to express his feelings, "… as I expected. Very… pungent. While I appreciate you and the Ensign trying to broaden my horizons, I do not think this is where I will start." Varik put the beer into his cup holder, and at that moment, the attention of the whole stadium was turned to the field. The Patriots had just intercepted a pass from London's quarterback with two minutes remaining in the game. The massive video boards, each bearing the logo of the high-quality automobile manufacturer that sponsored the stadium, displayed the current score, 21-17 in favor of London.

"An impressive display. It appears there is more strategy to this game than I would have anticipated from 21st century Earth." Varik said.

"You know it. Some brilliant sports minds came from this era. Brady and Belichick did it better than anyone else in this time!"

Mendon turned to face Miles. "I decided to do some research on this sport after receiving your invitation, and if I am not mistaken, the New England Patriots had come under much scrutiny in this time. Specifically, while Tom Brady was at quarterback, and while Bill Belichick was their coach, they were accused of multiple instances of breaking the rules, as well as-"

"Mendon… stop. Just… stop. Don't give me that crap!" Miles held up a hand.

"Have I offended?" Mendon asked, a puzzled look on his face.

Paxton held out a hand, as if to calm them both. "You're fine, Lieutenant. He just doesn't like to hear people calling his precious team 'cheaters.'"

"Ancient history! And besides, you mean to tell me with a straight face that they were the only ones to ever have been accused of bending the rules a bit? What about all those guys who were juicing back then?"

Mendon's face wrinkled in confusion once more. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand that term."

Miles leaned back in his seat. "That was what they used to call steroid usage in the 20th and 21st Century. Athletes would try to use them to enhance performance. They didn't know what we know now, though. Steroids were literally killing these players."

Varik interjected. "While this discussion has been enlightening, I must return to my quarters to meditate. This event has been very… stimulating to my senses."

"It _is_ getting late, Miles. We should probably wrap it up." Tanya put a hand on his shoulder.

Miles frowned. "Fine, fine. But before we go… Computer: fast forward to time index Zero Dash Ten and resume playback."

"Resuming playback." The computer responded. The five looked on as New England completed a short passing touchdown to win the game as time expired, leaving the final score at 23-21.

Amid the bellows and cheers of the holo-characters around them, Miles shouted the command to end the program. The holo emitters deactivated, and the bridge crew were left standing on the empty holodeck floor.

"Well, that was sure entertaining." Paxton brushed crumbs of popcorn from his shirt. "But next time we pick a sports program, you get to watch your Red Sox get whipped by _my_ Mets in '86."

Miles laughed. "You're on."

Mendon tilted his head. "I am unfamiliar with any American football teams bearing those names."

"That's because they're baseball teams, Mendon. Another sport you might enjoy. Lots of stats." At that moment, they were interrupted by the comm panel on the wall chirping.

"Garrett to Holodeck Two. Senior bridge staff report to the briefing room immediately."

Paxton keyed his combadge. "On our way, sir."

Mendon and Varik were already making their way to the turbolift. Rick and Miles motioned for Tanya to go ahead of them, and followed behind her.

"Deck One." Paxton ordered once they were all aboard.

"Does anyone else have an odd feeling about this? Since when does the Captain schedule a briefing in the middle of the night shift? Briefings are normally an 'Oh-Eight Hundred' type of affair." Miles leaned up against the wall of the turbolift.

Tanya stretched and yawned before speaking. "A little. But I'm sure the Captain has his reasons." The door opened, and the crew entered on to the bridge. "I just wish we had time to stop by the mess hall and grab some coffee." She said, prompting chuckles from her Human friends, while Mendon and Varik remained silent.

The lighting on the bridge had been reduced to conserve power on the night watch. First Officer Palmer sat in the Captain's chair. The main viewscreen showed the starfield ahead of them. Captain Garrett was standing at the doors to the briefing room. He motioned everyone inside, and once they were seated, he took his place at the head of the table.

"Computer, seal the doors. No one enters without my approval. Authorization: Garrett Beta Epsilon."

"Authorization code recognized."

"Captain, what's going on?"

Garrett held up a hand. "What I am about to say is information on a need-to-know basis. The rest of the crew will be informed in time. But for now, I trust only the five of you, plus Commander Palmer. Are we clear?"

The crew nodded in agreement. Captain Garrett stood and straightened his tunic.

"Good." He activated one of the panels on the wall.

"We are no longer _en route_ to the Bolian Sector. We have been diverted." The viewer displayed a new set of coordinates.

"Starbase 138 has detected what appears to be the opening of a wormhole less than a light-year away from their location. We are the closet Federation vessel to their location, so we have been ordered to investigate."

"Captain, might I ask why the secrecy?" Tanya asked.

"A new wormhole that could potentially be a stable gateway to a new corner of the galaxy is a prize that many species or factions would be eager to claim as their own. Some would even be willing to go to war over it." Varik responded.

"Correct, Lieutenant." Said the Captain. "If Starbase 138 could detect it, no doubt there are others who may be aware of its existence as well. Consider how dangerous it could be if the Maquis could stake a claim on this. Or the Cardassians, for that matter."

"Understood, sir." Tanya said.

"Do we know anything else about this phenomenon, Captain?" Miles asked.

Garrett smoothed out his tunic. "You know as much as I do, Lieutenant. Everyone, to you your stations. But Miles, when we do arrive, keep us at a decent distance. I'd rather not find out what's on the other side."

Captain Garrett dismissed the crew, and they proceeded back to the bridge to relieve the night watch.

"Mr. Chase, take us to the coordinates provided by the Starbase. Warp Seven. Engage."


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: If I was able to keep the second part of the crossover a secret, this would be the chapter with the big reveal. But since required me to list both worlds, the surprise is kind of spoiled. So anyway, enjoy this big ol' wall of text.]**

 _[First Officer Julie Palmer's Personal Log, Stardate 48347.2.  
We have been on course to a special anomaly for the past several hours, and as we venture closer to the event, ionic readings have been off the charts.  
Mr. Mendon has begun long-range scans of the wormhole, and while my own scientific curiosity keeps me fascinated, I have a very bad feeling about what may lie on the other side of this wormhole.]_

"Look at the size of that thing…" Miles remarked as the _Orion_ neared the wormhole. The massive, swirling gray vortex lay before the ship. Nearly three times the size of the vessel they sat aboard, the portal seemed to be stable, although lightning appeared to be arcing out from the edges.

"Mr. Mendon, analysis. Tell me what we're looking at." Garrett barked.

"Initial scans reveal very little, Captain." Mendon's hand danced across the control panel, as the Benzite completed two different tasks at once. Benzites had fully opposable thumbs on both sides of their hands, allowing levels of dexterity and multi-tasking that was impossible for humans.

"The energy given off by the portal is interfering with our sensors. Ensign Romanov and I are attempting to compensate now. I am also processing a request to Engineering for a Class II probe to be prepared." Mendon's breathing apparatus hissed and released another puff of Benzite-friendly air.

"Keep me posted. Lt. Varik, once the probe is ready, launch at your convenience."

"Yes, sir."

Garrett leaned forward in the captain's chair, intently focused on the mass of energy pulsing on the viewscreen. Commander Palmer was typing on the con panel between their chairs.

"There's a lot of gravimetric distortion. Mendon, Romanov, how are those sensor adjustments coming?"

Before they could respond, the wormhole let out a brilliant flash of light, and began to grow. A shockwave rocked the main bridge, forcing the crew to grab on to whatever they could to stabilize themselves.

"Report! What the hell was that?" Garrett yelled.

"The portal is surging!" Varik said. "There is something coming out! It's giving off a power signature indicative of a vessel."

"Go to red alert! Shields up, and charge primary phaser banks!" Garrett stood up as the portal pulsed again, and much to his surprise, a small craft emerged from the black center. A long, conical body, with four wings spread in an "X" formation. Weapon emplacements were at each of the wing's endpoint. A section along the fuselage starting below the pilot's canopy and extended almost to the tip of the nose was painted red, and red markings adorned the wings.

"That's our power signature?" Miles asked.

"Negative. Low power draw, one life-sign. And one positronic signal. However, there is something else still coming through." Varik responded.

Tanya's control panel lit up. "Unidentified fighter is firing on us." Red laser beams flashed from the weapon ports, splashing harmlessly against _Orion's_ shields. It turned up into a roll, and came back around for another pass. More lasers illuminated the ship's shield bubble, but the damage caused by this attack was visual only.

"Lasers? Where the hell is this guy from?" Commander Palmer asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Damage report?" The Captain asked.

"Minimal, sir. Shields holding. We cannot return fire without destroying the ship."

"Fire a warning shot all the same." Garrett tagged his combadge. "Garrett to Paxton. Lock-on tractor beam to that ship. I'm on my way down to the Shuttlebays. Varik, have a security detail meet me outside. Once I'm there, bring the whole fighter into Shuttlebay Two. Julie, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir." Varik keyed the order into his console. The Captain rose from his chair, watching as the phaser beam flashed several meters off the fighter's port side. The pilot had rolled his craft to its starboard, right into the waiting arc of _Orion's_ tractor beam. Garrett hurried to the turbolift.

"Deck Ten."

As he exited the turbolift, his security team had gathered. The Lieutenant in charge presented him with a hand phaser, and he immediately checked its power setting.

"Keep your phasers on stun. And be careful. We don't know if the pilot is armed." He tapped his combadge. "Garrett to Paxton. Bring him in."

After a short delay, Paxton responded. "He's in the bay, Captain. Force field in place, hangar is pressurized." Garrett nodded to the team, and they activated the door panel. As the team filed into the room, the strange fighter's canopy began to open. A figure wearing a charred white helmet and an orange flight suit began to rise from his seat.

"I'm Captain Tyson Garrett, of the Federation starship _Ori-"_ Before he could finish his introduction, he heard the faint rasp of metal against leather as the unknown pilot drew a hand weapon and fired a bolt of energy toward the men standing in the bay. One of the security guards pushed Garrett out of the way before taking the laser blast in the shoulder. The man fell to the floor in agony. The smell of burning fabric and flesh filled the room. Garrett regained his footing and fired his phaser, striking the pilot on the hand and sending the laser pistol flying from his hand. The weapon hit the bulkhead behind him and clattered to the floor. A domed robot in a slot behind the cockpit spat out a series of whistles and beeps. The pilot grabbed his injured hand, staring in shock and awe at his captors.

"Hands up! We're not looking for a fight! Don't make us hurt you!" Garrett shouted before keying his combadge. "Transporter Room Two, beam Crewman Carter to Sick Bay!" The wounded man on the deck dematerialized. The pilot had put his hands into view.

Garrett pointed his phaser back at the man in the fighter. "Now take off that helmet." The pilot complied, raising the helmet off his head, revealing his face from behind the orange visor.

"You're human?" The man asked.

" _You're_ human?" Garrett responded, lowering the phaser. The pilot was in his mid-twenties, black hair short but messy. He had a stern jawline, and even though he was young, his eyes were tired. This was a man who had seen much in his short time.

"What the hell is going on, here?" The Captain demanded. "Who are you?"

"You… don't already know? You're not with the Empire?" The man asked as he jumped free of the ship and planted his feet on the deck.

"No. We're not with any Empire. This is a Federation vessel." Garrett responded.

"Federation? Never heard of you… wait. If you're not Imperial, then…" The man's eyes widened. "We have to get out of here, NOW! They followed me in! They'll be coming out any minute!"

"Who?"

"No time to explain! What class hyperdrive does this ship carry?" The pilot asked, tucking his helmet under his arm.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Garrett said.

"You heard me, get us out of here or we're all dead!"

Garrett looked the man square in the eye. "On this ship, _I_ give the orders. Now, come with me." He led the strange man to the turbolift and proceeded to the bridge. The mysterious pilot continued to spout off a series of questions during the turbolift ride, but Garrett ignored them all. Once the lift doors opened, he saw the bridge was in a near-panic.

"Captain, the portal is surging again. The power signature is increasing in intensity. The vessel will clear the wormhole in approximately ten seconds." Varik reported.

"Listen to me, Captain. This tiny little ship is gonna be space dust once the _Hammer_ is through with her! We need to leave!"

"What is that?"

"You're kidding, right? _Hammer of Dawn,_ Admiral Karath's pride and joy? Where the hell have you people been for the last 17 years?"

"I'm not familiar with any Admiral Karath."

The fighter pilot's eyes widened again. "Wait a minute… where are you from?"

"I could ask the same question of you."

At that moment, a loud crack of thunder brought everyone's attention to the main viewer. A massive ship was emerging from the wormhole, triangular, and several hundred meters in length at least. A large tower rose from the aft section of the ship, and weapon ports immediately began flashing as laser blasts rained down onto the _Orion._ Alarm klaxons blared, and several bridge panels erupted in flames.

"Direct hit to forward shields! They are down to 45% strength!" Varik yelled.

"Damage reports coming in from Decks Four, Five and Nine. A lot of minor injuries several major injuries, no casualties. Sick Bay is anticipating an overload of patients, and Dr. Braun has activated the EMH." Tanya's hands moved across here console, funneling power to necessary stations.

"Mr. Varik, fire phasers and photon torpedoes. Maximum yield, full spread. Mr. Chase, evasive pattern Gamma-1." Garrett re-seated himself.

 _Orion_ let loose the volley of weapons, only to see the phaser fire absorbed by the massive vessel's shields. The photon torpedoes managed to penetrate the shielding, but their efforts only resulted in minor damage.

"I certainly hope you have more of those things." The pilot said, leaning on the railing behind the Captain's chair.

"Not enough, it would seem." Garrett sighed, and mulled over his options.

"Sir, enemy ship is hailing us." Tanya said.

"On screen." Garrett stood up again.

The viewscreen changed to a chromed, pristine room that had to be the bridge of the hostile cruiser. A man in a clean black uniform stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A set of red and blue bars adorned his chest, most likely an indication of rank. His jet-black hair was neatly combed, and although there were streaks of gray showing his age, his facial features were remarkably young. A large scar ran from above his milky white right eye to his left jawbone, a grisly scar on an otherwise unblemished face. His good eye was as blue as the ocean.

"Unidentified vessel, this is Admiral Duran Karath of the Star Destroyer _Hammer of Dawn_. You will surrender your ship to the Empire, or be destroyed."

Garrett's eyes narrowed. "I am Captain Tyson Garrett of the Federation starship _Orion,_ and I do not take kindly to idle threats."

The man let out a posh, arrogant chuckle. "I have never heard of your Federation, Captain. And I am not a man who _makes_ idle threats. If you are in league with the Rebel terrorist aboard your bridge, we will dispose of you in the same manner as we did his comrades. As you have already discovered, this Star Destroyer could obliterate your pathetic little ship with a barely noticeable expenditure of firepower."

"That doesn't mean I won't stand my ground if I'm forced to." Garrett's fists balled in anger.

More laughter from the opposing officer on the viewscreen. "How noble, Captain Garrett. I can almost respect that. Now then, I'm a fair man, so I'll give you one last generous offer. If you surrender the X-wing pilot, his snubfighter and his droid to me, I'll pass back through that wormhole, and leave you and your adorable little ship alone." The Admiral's expression turned to stone. "I assure you Captain, I am a man of my word, both in my threats… and my promises. You have 30 seconds to surrender the pilot."

Garrett sliced his hand across his neck to signal Tanya to mute their channel.

"Captain," Tanya said from her station. "He's right. Even though they're using laser-based weaponry, they have more weapon emplacements than I can count. We're no match for them."

Garrett cursed to himself. "If anyone has any options, I'd love to hear them."

"It seems as though our only options are to run, or to comply. As Ensign Romanov says, we are outgunned." Varik's logical approach was frustrating, but correct. The _Intrepid_ -class starship, while equipped with fourteen phaser arrays and five photon torpedo launchers, was a small ship. The crew compliment was only one hundred and fifty, while the cruiser off their starboard bow had to have a crew of thousands.

"You're not seriously thinking of giving me over to him, are you?" The pilot leaned over the railing, concern and fear covering his face.

"I never said that." Captain Garrett turned to face him. "But the man has made a very serious accusation against you. He claimed you were a terrorist."

"I am part of a Rebellion against a Sith-run governmental system. I am _not,_ however, a terrorist."

"I've never heard of the Sith, but I've also never heard of your Rebellion. Do you mean the Maquis?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Captain, you _can't_ hand me over to them. I officially request asylum aboard your vessel, whatever it is."

Garrett pondered for a moment, before a laser blast hammered the ship's forward shields. The alarms began blaring again. He gave the signal to re-engage the viewscreen. Admiral Karath reappeared.

"Your time is up, Captain. You will surrender Lt. Corvin now, or I _will_ open fire and destroy you all. I won't ask again."

Garrett sat down in his chair. "I'm sorry, Admiral Karath, but you'll have to come and get him." He killed the viewscreen. "Miles, get us out of here, maximum warp, any heading!"

"Course and speed set, engaging warp drive!" Miles punched his console, and they left the enemy ship in their warp trail. The Captain sighed, sinking deeper into his captain's chair, and massaging his temples. Tanya read off a string of damage reports, but it was just white noise to the Garrett. After a few moments, he rose from his seat.

"Now then, Corvin, was it?" The pilot nodded. Garrett smiled lightly.

"Well, Mr. Corvin, I will grant you asylum once we can get your story straight. In addition, you have a phaser burn on your hand. And I know someone who can help with both of our problems. Come with me."

"Wait, where are you taking me?" Corvin asked as they entered the turbolift.

"Sick Bay."


	4. Chapter 4

_[Captain's Log, Supplemental  
I have decided to grant Mr. Corvin temporary asylum aboard my ship, pending Dr. Braun's assessment of him proves that he is who he claims to be.  
And if I'm right about him, this man is in fact from a region of space previously unknown to us.]_

"And you're sure that Karath won't be able to catch up to us?" Corvin sat on one of the bio-beds in Sick Bay, while the EMH ran a medical scanner around his hand. Garrett leaned against the adjacent bed, arms folded.

"If my assumptions are correct, the Admiral doesn't even have the first clue as to where we're going. Doctor, how is our new patient?" He said.

The EMH placed the hand scanner back into the medical tricorder and placed it back onto the bio-bed. The Emergency Medical Hologram Mk. I was a supplement to existing medical staff in cases of extreme patient load. Designed by Dr. Lewis Zimmerman, the holographic doctor was also projected in his likeness. The balding, middle-aged man treating Corvin appeared as real as anyone else in Sick Bay, but Corvin was completely unaware of the fact that his doctor was little more than photons on a molecular level. The EMH examined the tricorder readings on the monitors placed near the bed.

"Second-degree phaser burn, plus a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing to worry about, Captain. Please hand me the dermal regenerator." Garrett handed him the device.

"Whoa, what is that?" Corvin asked, withdrawing slightly and forcing the EMH to frown even more than it already was.

"A dermal regenerator." The hologram sighed. "As the name implies, it regenerates wounded tissue."

"Don't you people use bacta?" Corvin said, prompting a chuckle from the EMH.

"I'm sure you've heard this a lot today, but I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Please hold out your hand, Lieutenant."

The confused man complied, and the EMH began to heal the burn on his hand.

"This is… incredible. So much faster than bacta." He looked over his hand, marveling at the sight of his newly healed tissue.

"And no scar? No synthflesh?" He asked the EMH.

"No. I assure you, you are 100% you, Mr. Corvin." The Doctor rolled his eyes slightly, clearly unamused with his patient's bewilderment.

"And what exactly _is_ he, Doctor? He looks like you and me, but I still have my reservations." Garrett asked.

The EMH ran the scanner over Corvin again. "This man is, without a doubt, human. His DNA patterns conform to that of a normal human being. I don't know where he's from, but you and he are the same, scientifically speaking."

Garrett stood up to his full height. "In that case Doc, if he's all set, I'd like to take him next door to see Dr. Braun."

"As you wish, Captain. I'd just like to give him a brief injection for any more pain he might have." The Doctor loaded a hypospray and injected a painkiller into Corvin's neck.

"Great. Let's go." Garrett and Corvin turned to leave the ICU area of Sick Bay, only stopping when the EMH spoke up.

"Captain, all of the patients are stable. Dr. Braun and the regular medical staff should be able to handle the work."

"Yes… And your point, Doctor?" The EMH's expression grew to one of mild despair.

"Well, you forgot to turn off my program before leaving. After all, I'm a doctor, not a light bulb."

Garrett laughed. "Sorry, Doc. Computer: deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram." The Doctor disappeared in an instant, causing much surprise for _Orion's_ guest.

"What in the… you mean to tell me he wasn't real?"

"In a sense, no. Don't you have holographic capabilities… wherever you're from?" Garrett asked.

"That's not anything I've ever seen. Up until today, I thought holograms were only for communication."

The Captain led Corvin through a set of doors on the other side of Sick Bay. Standing over a patient's bed, scanner in hand, was Dr. Zalya Braun. _Orion'_ s Chief Medical Officer was a Betazoid, a species almost identical to humans in appearance save for their eyes, but their minds varied vastly. All Betazoids were natural telepaths, and even a child with one human parent could at least sense people's thoughts in some way. Deanna Troi of the _Enterprise_ was one notable example of a Human-Betazoid. The abilities of a Betazoid made them popular candidates in Starfleet to serve as councilors and medical officers, and Dr. Braun filled her role with exceptional precision.

As Garrett and Corvin approached her, she brushed her blonde hair behind her ear and turned to face them, placing the scanner back into her tricorder.

"You need me to tell you if this man is a potential danger?" She asked.

"Quite correct, Doctor. This is-"

"Darick Corvin. I know." She cut him off. "Sir." She added.

Corvin backpedaled. "How the hell did you know my name? Are you some kind of Jedi?"

Dr. Braun met eyes with the startled man. "No. I can tell you're confused. My people possess the ability to read the minds of others." Dr. Braun turned back to the Captain. "Tyson, whoever this man is, he is not of our galaxy."

"Are you sure?" Garrett inquired.

"Positive. The planets and places you are thinking of, Mr. Corvin, do not exist here. As I'm sure, you've already figured out, sir."

Corvin leaned against an empty bed. He put a hand up to his head. "This, this has to be some kind of mistake. I…" His face sank. "This can't be."

"I'm afraid it is. And I can prove it to you." The Doctor walked to a video panel on the wall. "Computer: Display our galaxy. All quadrants, and mark current location of _USS Orion._ "

The computer screen lit up and displayed Dr. Braun's parameters. Corvin stared at the screen in shock. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to make sense of this new information.

"No, no. Tattooine, my home planet Alderaan, Kashyyyk, Coruscant… none of them are here. Where the hell am I?"

Garrett put a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're in the Milky Way galaxy. In the Alpha Quadrant, to be specific."

"The wormhole?" Corvin asked.

"Yes. It must be a bridge between our galaxy and yours."

"I'm curious as to what that might look like. I know this isn't the best time, but do you happen to have a map file for it?" Dr. Braun asked.

Corvin remained silent for a few moments. He had slumped to the floor, very distraught. Garrett and Dr. Braun allowed him to regain his composure, and he pulled her aside for a private talk.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Garrett whispered, placing his chin in the crook of his hand. "This Rebellion he mentioned earlier… it doesn't sound like they're the terrorists this Admiral Karath made them out to be. But I still have my doubts."

Zalya moved more hair out of her face. "There's a lot of emotion swirling in his mind right now, Captain. A lot of anger, some confusion, and a great deal of sadness. But I don't get the feeling he's in the business of killing innocent people." She turned back to the man on the floor.

"Are you going to be alright, Lieutenant?" Zalya asked him with a reassuring smile.

Corvin slowly rose to his feet. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He shook his head violently a few times. He took several deep breaths, and gave a thumbs up to the Captain and Doctor.

"I'll be fine."

"Can you show us where you come from?" She asked again.

"I can't. But my droid can. Let me comm him." He pulled a black metal cylinder off his belt, a communicator of some kind. ", I need you to come up here, if the Captain's men would be so kind to escort you to me." He made eye contact with Garrett as he said this, prompting Garrett to key his combadge.

"Captain to Shuttlebay One. Have a team escort our small metal friend to Sick Bay."

"Aye sir, it's just…"

"It's just what, Crewman?" Garrett asked.

"This thing doesn't speak very much. Just lots of beeping and whistling."

"Just bring it up here."

"Him." Corvin said.

"My apologies. _Him._ "

The Crewman on the other end of line acknowledged, and a few minutes later, the escort arrived, being followed closely by a cylindrical robot with a domed head, over a meter and a half in height, moving on two wheeled "legs" with a smaller third leg protruding from the bottom of the cylinder. The white droid was adorned with orange detailing, and it chirped and beeped when it saw Corvin.

"Captain, this is my droid, R2-D8, he's been my navigator and partner-in-crime for the last couple of years. R2, this is Captain Garrett, our savior and host." The little droid rocked back and forth as it blurted out a rather jovial sounding series of beeps.

"I can assume that he's grateful?" Garrett smiled as he patted the droid on the rotating dome that served as its head.

"Good guess. Most people where I come from can't understand Astromech droids without translation software, but I've worked with R2 a long time. I understand them better than most."

"Now that pleasantries are out of the way, can our little friend here show us your galaxy?"

"Absolutely. R2, bring up the galactic map." A lens on the droid's dome lit up and projected a holographic galaxy that filled the room. Dr. Braun reduced the lighting in Sick Bay to allow a better view. Corvin examined the map carefully, before pointing to a green-blue ball in the starfield.

"Here. This is my home planet, Alderaan. Quaint. Peaceful. Under constant threat of invasion."

Garrett went in for a closer look. "Amazing. It looks remarkably like Earth. That's where I come from."

Corvin sighed, and moved away from Alderaan, pointing now to a grey planet near the galactic core. "This is the planet formerly known as Coruscant. Now referred to as Imperial Center. This is the hub of Emperor Palpatine's regime. This planet used to be a jewel, a wonderful place. Now the Empire's most loyal subjects live in luxury while non-humans are forced to scrape by in the lower slums. Our Emperor doesn't think too highly of aliens."

Garrett looked over the galaxy. "Well then, I think you'll find our policies to be much more to your liking. In the United Federation of Planets, all walks of life are welcome to join and live as they please. As you may have guessed by our size, this is a vessel of research and exploration."

"I see." Corvin's eyes reflected the projection of the map, which he soon signaled the droid to close. The lights in the room returned to normal, and Dr. Braun stepped in-between the two men.

"Not that this hasn't been fascinating, but my patients are trying to recover, Captain. Is there any way I could convince you to bring this exchange of culture elsewhere?"

"Of course, Doctor. Mr. Corvin, can I assume you haven't eaten in some time?"

"It's been a while, yes."

Garrett smiled as he escorted Corvin out of Sick Bay. "Then I'd like for you to join my bridge crew and I for a meal. Come on, I'll show you to Deck Two."


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N: I think I kind of got a little wordy in this bit. Let me know what you guys think.]**

 _[Lieutenant Miles Chase's Personal Log, Stardate 48346.4  
Upon a brief conversation with our new guest Darick Corvin, I can tell he and I are going to get along quite well.  
A pilot from another galaxy shows up on our ship, with a craft none of us have ever seen before?  
How can I resist learning all I can about him and his ship?]_

"And then, two more TIE Fighters start breaking toward my wingman, just off my port wings." Corvin was moving his hands to show the relative positions of the fighters in the battle he was describing. He had a small gathering of the _Orion's_ crew around him, Captain Garrett, Miles and several other crew members. He was regaling his audience with tales of a dogfight during an Imperial raid on a Rebel-held space station over a world called Malastare.

"This Empire really sends their pilots out in unshielded ships?" Tanya sipped a cup of coffee, leaning back in her chair.

"They do, indeed. The Empire prefers sheer numbers to overwhelm their enemies. Those TIEs can't take much punishment, but they're agile, and attack in groups." Corvin said between bites of his meal. "So, I kick my X-wing hard to port and I put myself in between the two TIEs, cutting off the trailing fighter from his own wingman. My own wingman Deek had lost most of his aft shields, so I managed to take away the second TIE's firing line on him." More hand motions accompanied his description.

Miles returned to the table, having gone back to the replicator to get himself a dessert. "Oh, this is the good part." He said as he sat back down.

"You've heard this story before?" Commander Palmer asked.

"Corvin graced the Captain and I with this little adventure before you guys showed up, ma'am. Sorry, Darick. Please continue."

"Right. So, anyway, R4 gives me the target lock tone, and I waste the lead eyeball- that's our pilot slang for them- meanwhile, the fighter behind me is still trying to get a tone on Deek, basically trying to shoot around me or force me out of the way."

"So, what happened?" Tanya asked.

"Well, he keeps breaking left and right behind me, trying to get his firing arc around me, so the next time he breaks to my portside, I shunt all power to my aft shields and slam on my rudder pedals, killing my engines. The TIE's starboard wing clips the aft-portside of my shield bubble, the wing shears off and he goes careening out of control. I got out with only minor damage, and Deek and I rejoin the battle. We mop up the Empire's forces, and save our station."

"A risky, yet impressive maneuver. Had you ever attempted such a feat before?" Varik asked, as he raised his cup of Vulcan tea.

"Never, but a friend of mine gave me the idea… Unfortunately, he never lived to see me do it. He died in the start of the Imperial raid." Corvin's expression sobered. "Blown to dust as his fighter was leaving the hangar. Never even had a chance to raise his shields."

Captain Garrett put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I'm sorry. We all know what it's like to lose friends." Between constant threats of war with the Romulans, Cardassians and Borg, many of the crewmen aboard _Orion_ had at least one person close to them with their name on an after-action report under KIA." As he settled back into his chair, he felt the medallion around his neck come back to rest against his chest, and he thought of his mother.

Corvin placed his face into his hands for a moment, then straightened up. "So, what is our next step, Captain? We have a heavily armed Imperial Star Destroyer wandering unchecked through a brand-new galaxy." He met eyes with Garrett. "And one pilot who wants to get back home and make sure his friends are alright."

The Captain sighed. "That may prove difficult. Our primary mission right now is tracking down one of our own missing starships. And in most instances, our Prime Directive prevents interference with other cultures." Corvin's heart sank.

"However," Garrett continued, "seeing as how a rogue warship could stand to interfere with my own society, I would say the Prime Directive is not applicable in this situation. The Captain smiled and patted Corvin on the back. "I'll do what I can to help you. I promise."

Corvin stood and took Captain Garrett's hand, shaking it feverishly. "Thank you, Captain."

Varik placed his teacup on the table and stood up. "There are several obstacles we must circumvent if we are to go hunting for Admiral Karath. The most glaring of these being we have no way to track his ship."

Commander Palmer patted the dome of the R4 unit sitting quietly in low-power mode. "Well, maybe our little friend here can help us with that."

Corvin nodded. "Absolutely. If my knowledge of Imperial frequencies is correct, I can get you their transponder signal."

Miles raised his hand. "Another big challenge is that Karath's ship laps us several times over when it comes to armaments, not to mention sheer size. We don't have the firepower to take that thing on ourselves. The Federation mostly arms their ships for defense, Corvin." He turned towards the Captain. "Maybe if we can convince Starfleet Command to loan us a _Galaxy_ -class or two." He chuckled.

"The more ships you can get to help you, the better." Corvin said. "We never saw that wormhole close, and Admiral Karath's ship wasn't alone on my end."

Garrett stared at the pilot. "There were more ships? How many?"

"At least three more. _Hammer of Dawn_ is the largest, but the fleet that intercepted my squadron was four ships total. Two _Victory_ -class Star Destroyers, the _Vanquisher_ and the _Nova_. And then there's _Star Crusher_ , an Interdictor cruiser. The first of its kind, it has four projectors that can simulate the hyperspace shadow normally associated with a planetary body. A 'gravity well,' in simpler terms. It disrupts any ships traveling at lightspeed. They used her to drag us back into what we refer to as 'real space.'"

Garrett turned to his Operations officer. "Tanya, any chance that could interfere with warp travel?"

"Hard to tell, Captain. In theory, it's possible."

"I doubt you'd get the chance to find out anytime soon. Given that Admiral Karath has no knowledge of this galaxy, his fleet would have no idea where to find your ship." Corvin said. "The Interdictor relies on surprise ambushes. It simulates the gravity well of a planet, which is what disrupts hyperspace. They park themselves along hyperspace routes and run the generators. But as I said, they need to know where a ship is coming from to do that."

Captain Garrett nodded in agreement. "That could be our edge. But four enemy ships flying blind in an unfamiliar section of space can also be dangerous. Given how quick Karath was to fire on us fresh out of the wormhole, it's safe to assume he'd open fire on anything that stands in his way." Keying his combadge, he hailed Mendon, who was currently in command of the bridge. "Garrett to bridge."

"Mendon here, Captain. Is there a problem? I haven't noticed anything unusual, and the course I've plotted is quite adequate. Furthermore-"

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant. I just want you to monitor all subspace channels, keep a look out for anything relating to these 'Star Destroyers.' If there's anything, I can almost guarantee it will stick out like a sore thumb."

"Yes, sir. Bridge out." The comm died.

"I can promise you they haven't gone far. Making blind hyperspace jumps is suicide. Without precise calculations, you could end up buried in the broadside of a planet, or worse." Corvin leaned back in his chair, and took a drink before continuing. "Admiral Karath isn't stupid, he knows there's nowhere for him to go, unless he manages to get his hands on navigational charts, or a map of this sector of space."

"What do you think he would do, Darick?" Tanya asked him. "Would he just sit by the wormhole and wait for us to bring you back?"

Corvin laughed. "No. He knows that _we're_ not stupid. My guess? His small fleet would proceed on a heading at sublight speed and attack the first planet, space station or vessel they come across." At that moment, Garrett's combadge beeped.

"Garrett here." Mendon was on the other end of the channel, and his voice sounded distressed.

"Captain, we are receiving a Priority One distress call from Starbase 138. Four unidentified ships dropped out of warp at an extremely close distance and opened fire on the station. One of the vessels collided with the _USS Lucas_ and destroyed it. All their hails to the ships have gone unanswered."

Corvin placed his cup down and rose from his chair. "Speak of the devil…"

"How far out are we from the Starbase?"

"Approximately 6 hours, Captain."

Garrett cursed under his breath. _Dammit, we traveled too far._

"Everyone to the bridge. Mendon, bring us up to yellow alert. Maintain communication with the Starbase for as long as you can."

As the crew dispersed from the mess hall, Garrett stopped Corvin in the corridor, two security officers were waiting for them. He held out a combadge to the younger man. "I've assigned you temporary quarters. These men will escort you there. Just tap this and ask for me if you need anything. But for now, we have a long flight ahead, you should probably get some rest."

Corvin took the badge, and pinned it onto the orange flight suit he still wore. Nodding to the Captain, he followed the two other men down the corridor. Garrett smoothed out his tunic, and proceeded to the turbolift.


	6. Chapter 6

**[A/N: Sorry for the delay, I hit another patch of writer's block. Enjoy!]**

6

Admiral Karath stepped gingerly over the body of a dead alien, most likely a member of the security forces on the space station. As he cleared the obstacle, he gazed into the face of the humanoid. Blue-skinned and bald, the dead man had a ridge running vertically along his face, bisecting it. He shook his head, equally a dismissive gesture and a disgusted one, he turned his attention to the waves of Stormtroopers filing past him, joining in the search for any astronavigation data the station held.

In what would have been deemed a mistake committed by a first-year Cadet at the Imperial Academy, he had ordered his fleet to make a blind jump into hyperspace, albeit a short one. The three Star Destroyers had survived the jump with no damage, but his Interdictor cruiser had not fared as well. The jump had put her directly into the path of a large cruiser orbiting the station they had found almost by chance. The two ships had collided, and while the smaller foreign cruiser had been destroyed, the _Star Crusher_ survived, though her starboard gravity well projectors had sustained significant damage. While the port generators were still functional, this severely reduced the effectiveness of the cruiser, since any ships trapped by the Interdictor would be able to escape a smaller gravity well more quickly.

The Admiral gave a look out the viewport, watching debris from one of the enemy ships drift across the profile of the crippled Interdictor. It was a portion of the saucer-like hull shared by most of these so-called "Federation" vessels. The strange vessels were armed with equally anomalous weaponry. Whereas Imperial weaponry relied on coherent light energy, the sensor data _Hammer of Dawn_ gathered during their earlier engagements suggested that these so-called "phasers" relied on particle-based energy, though the sensors were unable to specify what kind of particle. Karath had dismissed these armaments, finding turbolasers much more effective and satisfying. Their torpedo weaponry however, was fascinating to him. Quantities of antimatter was detected in the warheads that had managed to weaken his Star Destroyer's shields. The Admiral pitied these Federation types, antimatter weaponry had much more destructive capabilities than what they were using. He began to wonder if the Empire could adapt that technology for his own use. But for the moment, he had more pressing questions that needed answering.

"Commander," he called out without turning away from the window. The rapid footfall of leather boots behind him signaled the hasty approach of the officer he had summoned. The reflection of the smaller man appeared in the window beside his own shortly thereafter.

"Y-yes, Admiral? How may I be of assistance?" The commander asked, clearly not expecting the Admiral to be overseeing the search personally. Karath shot a passing glance to his right, still not turning to face his lesser directly. Of course, due to his scarred right eye, he couldn't actually _see_ the man, but that was hardly the point. The gesture was one of dominance and intimidation, and it seemed to have the desired effect.

"Report. What have you been able to pull from the computer core?" He turned on his heel away from the window, moving toward a bank of terminals. The younger man jogged slightly to keep up with the Admiral's long stride. As the pair reached the computer station, he examined the control panel.

"Well, Admiral, while the inhabitants of this galaxy seem to share a _verbal_ language with us… The problem lies in their _written_ language. It is far different than Aurebesh. We are having difficulty deciphering the characters." The Commander punched up a random command on the console, and a string of text displayed on the screen. And Karath confirmed his junior officer's statement. He was unable to read the sentences.

"Are any of the human personnel still alive?" Karath asked, the distant sounds of blaster fire echoing through the base.

"Several. Plus, a small number of non-humans. Their languages differ vastly from our own, but I received word that one of the human crew has surrendered their translation matrices. No small amount of coercion was required, but we are now able to communicate with the aliens."

Karath frowned, the thought of having to interact further with non-humans sending a faint shudder down his spine. He, like most of the Empire's commissioned officers, shared a strong distaste for alien life. The Emperor's propaganda had imprinted this prejudice on him and many others long ago, and it was what made him so successful in the Imperial Navy. His lack of compassion toward non-humans prevented him from losing sight of whatever goal he was seeking. Countless alien colonies had fallen prey to his merciless hunt for the Rebellion, mere obstacles in his path he was more than eager to remove.

"And the star charts?" Karath asked.

"Those are proving more difficult to obtain. They seem bound by a 'prime directive' that refuses the right to technology to outsiders." The Commander tapped away on a datapad, searching for more useful intel, rambling in the Admiral's ear until he held up his left hand to silence the babbling officer.

His right hand wrapped itself around the ornate grip of the custom Verpine shatter gun tucked away in the holster on his hip. A prize from one of his early victories following the rise of the Empire, it originally belonged to a high-ranking Republic officer, whose name had long since been forgotten. While not standard Imperial-issue, and despite being made by the insectoid-like Verpine race, he treasured the pistol for its ability to inflict gruesome wounds.

"Commander, have your teams bring all the survivors here. I would like to interrogate them personally." He removed the pistol from its holster, and he checked the magazine of small pellets that were accelerated to high velocities, causing massive damage to organic tissue.

"Y-yes, Admiral. Right away."

"And Commander," he added, motioning with the barrel of the gun to the blue-skinned body he had stepped over on his way into the room, "I'd like to start with another one of those. If possible."


	7. Chapter 7

**[A/N: So, things have been pretty crazy the past few weeks/months/whatever since I last posted a chapter of this story, but I have one to post now, and I'll get around to posting a short Chapter 8 in the next few days. I'm still trying to figure out the action sequence I want to do, but I think I can get it done. I'm also working on finishing my most recent Destiny story, and I have a story about Locus and Felix from Red vs. Blue in the works as well. Enjoy!-Doinstuff]**

7

Corvin awoke to the unfamiliar chirping of the communicator provided to him by Captain Garrett. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and picked up the device. Tapping it, he held it up to speak.

"Yes?" he said, still half-groggy. He knew this had to be important, so he shook his head several times in an effort to wake himself further. Captain Garrett's voice returned from the badge.

"Sorry to wake you, Lieutenant. But we're about a half-hour away from the Starbase. I figured I'd give you some time to get ready before you come to the bridge."

Corvin nodded to himself. While he wasn't sure how much assistance he could offer to his rescuers, he had insisted on being present when they arrived. His R4 unit whistled and beeped, standing in the doorway of what looked to be equivalent to a refresher.

"Right. I'll be on my way shortly."

"There's no rush. You have time to grab a sonic shower and get yourself something to wake you up. We've provided you with several replicator rations in your quarters. Just tell the computer what you'd like. It will take care of the rest."

"Thank you, Captain. Corvin out." He felt along the wall for the light switch, and once he found it, the chamber filled with light, forcibly driving the last wisps of sleepiness from him. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he set the combadge back on the table by the bed and tried to find a way to dim the lights, but to no avail. Nearby, his droid had reached up with a manipulator arm and tagged the switch that activated the refresher's lighting. He tried to guide Corvin toward the door with auditory cues, but his efforts only rewarded Corvin with a stubbed toe.

Sitting back down onto the bed, Corvin massaged the sore toe, his eyes now adjusted to the brightness. He shot a helpless look over to his R4 unit, who offered an inquisitive whistle.

"No, I'm gonna pass. I can't even figure out their _light switches._ I don't even want to know what a stang 'sonic shower' is." He moved from the bed to the table in the main living area, and sat at one of the chairs.

"Computer?" He yelled out to no one.

"Working." The panel on the wall responded.

"Um… Where can I find the replicator in this place?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Replicator station in guest quarters located here." The computer responded, the female voice shifting from the wall panel to a terminal above a large recess in the opposite wall. He stood up, and made his way over to the station.

"Well," he chuckled, "what do you recommend?"

"Unable to comply. Please specify a selection."

He frowned again. Earlier in the mess hall, Miles and Tanya had made selections for him, but he had been under the assumption that there was a galley with a cook on board the vessel. He didn't remember what the dishes were called, but from the rich flavors involved, he guessed that they would not make a suitable breakfast anyway.

"Do you have any caf?" He asked the wall panel.

"Invalid request. Please select an item from replicator database."

He exhaled, suppressing the urge to curse again. "Show me the beverages database, I guess." The panel began displaying a list of items he could not read. Thankfully, this problem had been addressed by Captain Garrett during his visit to Sick Bay, and the written translations were being sent to his datapad. He scrolled through the options, ignoring the rumbling in his belly until he saw something familiar.

"Coffee! That's what I was asking for! Give me a cup of coffee, please." He said, wondering if the computer recognized his manners.

"Please specify temperature and preparation." The computer responded.

"Who the hell drinks cold coffee?! Hot coffee, nothing in it! Please, computer!" He breathed a sigh of relief as the machine hummed in response, followed by a sharp inhalation as the cup of coffee appeared out of thin air.

 _Well, at least now I know why they call it a 'replicator,'_ he thought as he picked up the cup. As with the sonic shower, he decided to forego any further interaction with the unfamiliar tech, and sat back down at the table. R4 brought his boots and combadge to him, and he sipped on his drink while waiting for a follow-up call from the Captain.

/

"Mr. Chase, take us in slow. One-half impulse." Garrett eased back into his chair, watching the main viewer as the debris field in front of them slowly got bigger. There wasn't much left of the station, and even less remained of any friendly ships that had been in the area. A chill ran down the Captain's spine as he heard the turbolift doors open behind him. Corvin stepped onto the bridge, his hair a mess, and his clothes wrinkled. Garrett gave him a reassuring smile, despite his uneasiness. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest as he looked over the younger man, slightly amused at how disheveled he appeared.

"Rough morning?" he asked.

"You could say that." Corvin poured himself onto the bench that sat next to the Captain's chair.

"Well, unfortunately I can't tell you anything that will make it better." Garrett gestured to the viewer. Corvin beheld the debris field.

"Captain, I've got something. A distress beacon, it appears to be from one of the shuttlecraft assigned to the Starbase. I am also detecting several small power signatures, but they are much fainter. We have a visual confirmation. Attempting to hail the shuttle." Varik keyed in the commands, but only silence greeted the crew.

"What's the problem?" Garrett asked.

"The debris field is causing too much interference to get a comm signal through."

Garrett pondered for a moment about venturing into the field, but quickly decided against it. While _Orion_ was smaller than most Federation vessels, it would still be too large to safely navigate the debris.

"How many on board? Can we beam them out?"

"There are over a dozen life signs, but the same interference to our comms also prevents a solid transporter lock." Varik responded.

Miles turned away from the helm control. "Over a _dozen?!_ " In a Type-II shuttle? That's insane!"

"Indeed, Mr. Chase. Sensors are gathering little else, other than the fact that the shuttle's engines are offline."

Garrett stood and paced for a moment. The only way to get the shuttle to safety was to go in and guide them out, but that was impossible to do with the ship itself. The only option he could think of was to send in another shuttle after them.

"Varik, do you have any visual on the shuttle?" Corvin asked, perking up. He wanted to help, and he was sure Captain Garrett had a similar thought process to his own.

"Affirmative." Varik changed the viewer display to that of the shuttle. It was drifting, but undamaged.

"Captain Garrett, do you have similar shuttles onboard?"

"Yes, why?" Garrett turned, a suspicious look in his eye.

"That thing looks like a clunker. No way they have much in maneuverability. Look at that field, anyone piloting one of those will be space dust in no time."

Garrett conceded the point, and opened his hands. "Well then, Mr. Corvin, what do you suggest we do?"

"Send me out in my X-wing. I can navigate this, clear a path for the shuttle to get out."

Varik nodded behind them, with a raised, inquisitive eyebrow. "It could work, Captain. Mr. Corvin's craft appears to have suitable weaponry to clear the debris. And its smaller profile lends itself to such a task."

Garrett remained silent for a moment. While _Orion's_ phasers could also clear an effective path through the debris, they ran a high risk of friendly fire. Seeing no other alternative, he gave Corvin a nod of approval. But as the eager pilot rose from his seat to leave the bridge, Captain Garrett stopped him with a grab of his arm.

"What kind of power does your fighter run on?"

"Well, I'm no tech, but the engines take a high-energy fuel, I can tell you that much." Corvin replied.

"I'm concerned about how long we can keep you out there with no backup. Even more so now that I know you have a limited fuel source. But, if you think you can pull it off, I'll allow you to proceed."

Corvin pondered his situation for a moment. His squadron had been traveling in hyperspace prior to his arrival in Federation space, and his time at sublight had been limited. His best estimate gave him about a half hour or so of flight time before his ship would run empty and become useless. While the hyperdrive only sipped fuel, his quartet of 4L4 fusial thrust engines guzzled it. But in a situation where he only had to worry about maneuvering through debris as opposed to laser fire, he was confident he could get the job done.

"Let's do this, Captain." He said. Captain Garrett gave him another nod after the slightest of hesitations. Corvin produced his own personal comm from the pocket of his flight suit. "R4, we're up. Meet me back at the ship." A series of beeps answered him from the other end of the line.

"We've got to go make some new friends."


	8. Chapter 8

8

"Date, give me repulsorlift engines, one-third power." Corvin feathered his starboard rudder pedal, turning his now rising X-wing to face the closed shuttle bay doors. The snubfighter wavered slightly from side to side as the repulsor field lifted it from the deck, actions he canceled out with delicate maneuvering of his control stick. The matching grey of the walls and floor threw his spatial awareness into disarray, so Miles and one of _Orion'_ s engineering staff acted as deck chiefs, helping him guide the fighter.

His helmet radio, now synced up with _Orion'_ s comm systems, crackled in his ear.

"Okay, Darick. You've got three meters on either side. We are clearing you for launch. Force fields are in place, bay doors are opening now. Good luck." Miles' voice filled his headset. He looked out the canopy to his right, seeing Miles shoot him a thumbs-up. Returning the gesture, he flipped down the orange visor on his flight helmet and faced forward, waiting for the doors to open.

After what felt like an eternity, the doors slowly opened, and once the way was clear, Corvin goosed the stick forward, and gave the X-wing a bit of thrust, sending it through the force fields and into the vacuum of space. The stars filled his canopy view, and filled him with a sense of calm. However, that feeling quickly vanished when he brought the X-wing around in a slow turn toward the bow of _Orion_. The massive debris field filled his view, and his heart crept up into his throat. Corvin shunted more power into the engines, and began the flight into the fresh graveyard of ships. His hand tightened on the flight stick, and his heart rate accelerated slightly. This set him even more at ease. Normally, the sight of a starfield was enough to put his troubles aside, but these stars were new and foreign to him. He was worried his sense of direction might be thrown off if he had to maneuver in a hurry, but he steeled himself and shook of his discomfort.

The remains of the Starfleet vessels now took up most of his forward view. A rotating piece of the saucer section of one ship stood directly in his path. Setting his lasers to fire in pairs, he triggered several bursts, vaporizing the chunk of metal and clearing his way. He rolled his X-wing onto his starboard wings to avoid a warp nacelle, firing once more to split the pylon in two.

"Captain Garrett, how many Federation ships were operating in this sector when Karath attacked?" He asked as he cleared more debris, getting ever closer to the shuttlecraft.

"Last station logs indicate there were two civilian transports, a Vulcan freighter, and one light cruiser docked at the time. And of course, there was the _Lucas,_ a _Galaxy_ -class cruiser. That was the ship that collided with one of Karath's vessels after their blind jump."

Corvin looked around, seeing the saucer section of the _Lucas_ drifting well away from the center of the graveyard. It seemed largely intact, though one side had been heavily damaged.

"Why do you ask?"

"This seems like a lot of debris for six ships, and any remains of the station itself would appear to be separate from what's left of these vessels." Corvin pulled the stick back into his chest, turning his ship ninety degrees straight up while executing a half rotation, now flying parallel to the massive slab of metal in his path. With the slab now "above" him in relation to his orientation, something caught his eye. The markings and patterns on the piece were familiar to him, and were unlike most of the other flotsam in the field.

 _Imperial garbage. They dumped it into the debris field intentionally. Something isn't right._

"Um, _Orion…_ Those smaller signatures you mentioned on the bridge- What type of energy were they giving off?" He asked, glancing as far behind him as he could.

Varik came onto the channel. "Scans picked up ion energy markers from four different locations in the graveyard."

His blood ran cold. "Confirm, _Orion._ Four _ion_ signatures?" He asked as he transferred power back to his shields.

"Confirmed, Lieutenant. Four pings, all ion."

Warbling from Date reaffirmed his worst fears as four TIE fighters emerged from their hiding places in the space junk. The spherical fighters powered up and began to circle his X-wing, producing the signature whine of the twin engines that made Corvin's blood run cold. His hands became vice grips on the control stick, and he prepared to fight for his life.

 **[A/N: So right about here, there would be some kind of epic 4v1 dogfight, with lots of badass action and super cool space laser shit, and quite possibly a few explosions. But... I'm having some trouble writing a sequence that can do justice to the vision in my head, which is the reason for this chapter being dreadfully short in comparison to previous installments. It might be some time, but I'll get to it (hopefully sooner, rather than later).]**


	9. Chapter 9

**[A/N: this is a chapter I've wanted to do for a while, to make it a true crossover story. And I couldn't resist putting some classic Star Wars characters into this. And in case anyone is wondering, any and all SW stuff in this story will follow the Expanded Universe, the _real_ Star Wars canon. Enjoy!]**

9

 _/Core Worlds Region, near the edge of the Corellia System/_

"And you're sure this is the same anomaly, Lieutenant?" Ackbar's chin barbels twitched as he spoke, staring deep into the pulsing, churning wormhole that was swirling in front of _Home One._ The other Mon Calamari he was speaking to handed him a datapad.

"Yes, Admiral. The sensory data recovered from Blue Squadron at the time of Lieutenant Corvin's disappearance confirms it."

The Admiral's eyes moved independently of each other, one studied the datapad, the other remained fixed on the wormhole. "It's been many years since Corvin went missing. How do we even know he's still alive?"

"We don't, sir," the junior office replied, pointing a flippered hand at the anomaly. "But if he is, he's on the other side of that portal."

"The survivors of that mission report that Admiral Karath's fleet followed him through the portal, leaving the two remaining X-wings from Blue Squadron behind. Those pilots were unable to follow because the wormhole collapsed."

"That is correct, Admiral. Corvin's astromech was carrying the locations of the Empire's AT-AT factories on Kuat, as well as blueprints for the walkers themselves."

"Had the Lieutenant not gone missing, those blueprints could have helped our forces turn the tide on Hoth. But, those waves have long since washed against the rocks. We must turn our focus to the waters that lie before us." Ackbar entered a command into his chair, sending it forward, towards the transparisteel viewport on the ship's bridge. His eyes once again focused on the portal. He was still contemplating the risk of entering it for one X-wing and it's pilot. He was in command of the entire Rebel Fleet, and to take his ships through the wormhole ran the risk of him never being able to return, throwing the entire Rebellion into disarray. He had no knowledge of where the anomaly would take them to, or how long time passed on the other side. He wasn't even sure if the normal laws of physics would apply.

"Lieutenant, I want a reconnaissance flight through that wormhole. Volunteers only. We can't risk the entire fleet, but I want to know what's on the other side. See to it personally."

"Right away, Admiral." The Mon Cal officer saluted, and turned on his heel towards the turbolift.

 _/Main Hangar Bay, Home One/_

Tightening his grip on the hydrospanner, Deek kept a close eye on the gauge in his hand as he tuned up his X-wing's laser actuator, adjusting the final point to finish zeroing his ship's primary weapons. The hangar techs may have disliked him for it, but he always preferred to do as much of the tinkering on his fighter as he was allowed. Anything involving the hyperdrive and the shield generator had to be done by the techs, but everything else was fair game for him. He and Darick used to spend hours talking shop, and his friend was the one who taught him how to manually zero the laser cannons of an X-wing. Deek looked out towards the magnetic forcefield over the hangar door, and stared out at the massive wormhole looming beyond. It looked oddly familiar, and he wondered if it was the same one he and Corvin encountered years ago.

 _And if it is, I better make sure the old girl is ready to fly._

He wiped the grease from his hands, and pocketing the gauge, stood back to admire his handiwork. He walked around the snubfighter, pausing for a moment to look at the silhouettes of TIE Fighters painted on his fuselage. His kill count had grown considerably in the last few years, to the point where he put his kills into groups of ten; those groups indicated by red silhouettes, while the stragglers were simply black. Thirty-eight kills occupied the fuselage to date, and he hoped to add more soon.

 _Not quite as impressive as Commander Antilles, but I think I've made my mark._ He continued his walk-around, brushing his hand against the nose cone as he reached the bow of the craft. As he passed his portside wings, he saw his new wingman, Zyx Qwiring approaching him from the far end of the hangar. The Gand's green, armored carapace clashed with his orange flightsuit, but it was something Deek had gotten used to over time.

 _I've got to stop thinking of him as "new," he's been on my wing for two years now_ , he thought. Zyx's mouthparts clicked as he drew closer.

"Deek, Zyx is pleased to report he has been medically cleared to fly. He is fit to be your wing-Gand once more," he said, his mouthparts forming as much of a smile as Gands could approximate.

Zyx's species referred to themselves in the third-person, believing that the pronoun "I" was to be reserved for Gands that had proven their worth to their people. To use the first-person without having done anything worthy of such a moniker was considered arrogant and rude for a Gand.

"Zyx, that's great news. Hopefully we'll see some action soon," Deek replied, pausing to examine some carbon scoring along the aft section of his fighter.

"Look at that. Some Imp pilot got a lucky hit on me last week." He pointed out the marking to Zyx.

"Qwiring offers his apologies. Had he been able to fly, Qwiring could have prevented the damage to your fighter." Deek had also learned early on in his partnership with Zyx that when a Gand felt they had offended another- or are ashamed of themselves- they would refer to themselves in a lesser name. Normally, Zyx used his given name, and when he showed remorse, he used his surname. In extreme acts of repentance, he even referred to himself simply as "Gand." Fortunately, that last title did not occur often.

"It's okay, Zyx. He wasn't quite _that_ lucky. A meter to the right, and I would have been toast. But my shields took most of the hit, and I think this is just cosmetic damage at worst." He licked his thumb, and immediately regretted that decision, as he still had quite a bit of grease on his hands. After spitting to get the taste out of his mouth, he scrubbed away a bit of the dark scorching on the hull, revealing the grey paint beneath.

"In any case, Zyx is pleased you were not injured during his absence. But the Emdee-Fours have assured Zyx that the carapace on his arm has hardened and Zyx is as healthy as ever."

Zyx had recently taken a leave of absence on his homeworld of Gand, where he had been attacked and mutilated by Breather Gand. Zyx's species evolved along two separate paths, with Zyx belonging to the lungless subspecies. That meant he was unaffected by toxins or inhospitable atmospheres. The other subspecies of Gand evolved to have lungs adapted to breathing ammonia, which required them to wear respirators when they went offworld. Breathers often resented the Lungless Gand, and many took to violence. Zyx's arm had been torn off, and he suffered severe wounds all over his body.

However, Zyx was fortunate enough to be found and recovered by _Home One's_ medical team, and a long soak in a bacta tank had acclerated the Gand's impressive healing factor.

Deek watched the turbolift doors open up across the hangar, and Lieutenant Xerin emerged, calling out names of the fighter squadrons as he made his way to the center of the deck.

"Blue Squadron, Gold Squadron, Green Squadron, fall in!" Pilots grabbed their helmets and rushed to him, expecting a mission. Deek grabbed his own helmet from the tool cart nearby, motioning for Zyx to follow.

"Zee, what's going on?" Deek asked, calling the Lieutenant by his nickname.

"You'll see. Listen up, pilots! The Admiral has ordered a recon flight through the wormhole. No doubt you've all seen it out there. And there's no telling what to expect on the other side, so this one is entirely optional. Admiral Ackbar wants volunteers only."

Deek took a step forward. "Tell me something, Zee: is this the anomaly that took Darick and the Star Destroyers three years ago?"

"The same."

"Then I'm in." Deek pulled his helmet over his head and buckled the chin strap.

Zyx stepped up and placed a three-fingered hand on Deek's shoulder. "Zyx will be on your wing."

Deek nodded his head at his squadmate, a relieved grin on his face. A Y-wing pilot from Gold Squadron stepped up next, followed by two of Green Squadron's A-wing pilots. More and more pilots began to join in, and eventually the entire hangar deck had set their boots on the line.

"Three full squadrons to retrieve one man? The Admiral won't be happy about that." Xerin said, his flippered hands fidgeting.

"Corvin is one of us," said Green Four, "He's a brother-in-arms, and if there's three Destroyers in there with him, he's gonna need all the help he can get. We won't abandon him. Not now; not ever." The entire wing of pilots nodded in agreement, and Deek just barely managed to keep back tears.

"I suppose there's no use in arguing for a smaller flight?" Xerin asked.

Silence met his pleas. Xerin tugged at his chin barbels for a moment, then sighed.

"Well, in any case, you're going to need a support ship to refuel and rest. I know the Admiral will never allow _Home One_ to cross the gateway, but perhaps we can have you all reassigned to another cruiser temporarily, provided their crew is also willing to venture out into the unknown." He scanned the crowd of fighter jocks. "If you're minds are made up, I will present my report to Admiral Ackbar." Cheers rose up from the assembled crowd, and they dispersed, rushing back to check on their fighters, more eager than ever to take flight and rescue their comrade.

/ _Home One_ Bridge\

"Unacceptable!" The holographic image of Councilor Borsk Fey'lya stared daggers at Admiral Ackbar. "We cannot just send three full squadrons of fighters into the unknown for the sake of one _human_ pilot!" The Admiral had requested a meeting via holocomm with the Rebel leaders to convince them to authorize cruiser support on the planned rescue mission. Mon Mothma had not answered her comm immediately, leaving Ackbar alone with his largest roadblock, Councilor Fey'lya, a Bothan politician with a well-known disdain for Humans, as well as the Admiral. As of late, Fey'lya had been holding the sacrifice of his fellow Bothans to retrieve secret plans for the Empire's new Death Star over the heads of Alliance brass, wearing that sacrifice like a badge of honor. He attempted to use that as leverage at every opportunity during the planning phase of the Rebellion's upcoming assault against the station. Fey'lya was currently at the Rebellion's new Sullust headquarters, overseeing the base.

"Councilor, my pilots are standing firm on this, they will not reduce their numbers. Regardless of that, any fighters we send through would need cruiser support to rest and refuel."

Councilor Fey'lya's nostrils flared. "That is beside the point, Admiral. The point _I_ am trying to make, is that I doubt your pilots would all step up and volunteer to rescue one lost Bothan."

"Councilor, not all in the Rebellion share your distrust of aliens. My fighter pilots share a deep camaraderie with each other. Lt. Corvin was one of their own, and they are willing to risk their lives to bring him back."

"Hmph. How very _noble_ of them. Regardless, Admiral, my hands are tied. There are no ships to spare."

"That is not entirely true, Councilor Fey'lya." A second image had flared to life while Borsk was speaking, and a woman in a loose, flowing white dress now stood beside him on Ackbar's holotable. She was at the midway point of her life, and even though her eyes were tired, she maintained an image of beauty and poise. The silver shimmer of her holographic projection failed to capture the red of her short-cut hair, nor the green of her eyes. She folded her hands across her midsection, greeting Admiral Ackbar with a warm smile.

"Mon Mothma, a pleasure as always."

The Rebel leader bowed in return. "Admiral. My apologies for being late. Commander- or should I say- former Commander Skywalker has made contact with me recently, and I was discussing the rescue of Captain Solo."

"No apologies are necessary, Madam Councilor. What news from Tatooine?"

"Skywalker informs me that the droids have been dispatched, and General Calrissian is also in with the Hutt's personal guard."

"An unconventional rescue, for an unconventional soldier, that is for certain," Ackbar chuckled, his barbels quivering. His eyes split their focus on the two politicians. "But those waves are yet to wash against us. Now we must turn to the matter of my pilots."

Mon Mothma nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. Now then, despite what my colleague says, there _is_ one cruiser available. Currently in drydock, but with a skeleton crew and droid assistance, she can be made ready to support your pilots."

The Bothan Councilor scoffed. "You can't possibly mean the _Valor_? That ship is a relic."

"I do, indeed. She is an older model, an MC30c that was converted from a passenger liner. She does not require a large crew compliment as it is, and her hangar can accommodate three full squadrons and their deck crew and techs. If you can put together a command staff, I'll authorize an emergency transfer of your fighter staff to her immediately."

"This is preposterous! You may as well send those men and women into the Maw, for what you're asking of them!" The Councilor protested.

"If the pilots are willing to take that risk, I cannot and will not stop them, Borsk. The decision is final." Mon Mothma kept her warm smile on, while still projecting absolute authority.

"With our attack on the Emperor looming, we may very well need every available pilot at our command. Corvin was-- _is-_ a great one, and if he is still alive, I would hate to lose him. And if there is life on the other side of the portal, we may very well find useful allies there as well. Admiral, I will leave you in charge of assembling a command crew for the _Valor._ Gentlemen, good day." And with that, Mon Mothma's image faded. Councilor Fey'lya cut his own link without another word, clearly angry after having his authority usurped by one of the few capable of doing so.

Admiral Ackbar nodded thoughtfully, and retreated to his office just off the main bridge. Inside, a globe of water was suspended via repulsorlifts, a diverse selection of fish native to his home world swimming inside. He stared deep into the floating orb, finding comfort in watching them move. He inhaled, finally able to breath comfortably in the humid conditions of his office, since the climate on the bridge was adjusted to fit the needs of the majority human staff aboard _Home One_ at present. The Admiral didn't mind accommodating the aliens, or he at least didn't show it if he did. Any prejudices he may have had about Humans, he kept to himself, and never let it interfere with the best interests of the Rebellion.

He circled the aquarium and took a seat at his desk, activating the comm system.

"Lieutenant Xerin, report to my office. I have a new assignment for you."


End file.
